


Enjoyment

by aliencupcake



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bloodplay, Bondage, Celibacy, M/M, Sex Magic, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 10:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10637748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliencupcake/pseuds/aliencupcake
Summary: Lem is overconfident when attempting to banish an incubus.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/gifts).



Lem had taken this assignment hoping it would be easy to find the incubus called Domor and banish him. So far, he was mostly sure of his assessment after having tracked Domor to a remote forest clearing.

“Afraid?” said Domor.

Typical for an incubus, Domor behaved as if hunter-mages such as Lem weren’t true threats, putting on an insouciant manner, flaunting himself like his alleged appeal mattered to Lem at all. Domor was tall and lithe, with long silver hair and matching eyes. He was typical, even if most incubi didn’t come in quite such a deep royal blue, and his typical appearance would earn him no mercy from Lem.

“I have no reason to be. Your form is fine enough, I suppose, but your power is hardly notable.” Lem could act as dismissive as Domor did if it suited him.

“Your form is fine, but is your power even as notable as mine?” said Domor.

Lem scowled at Domor’s attempt to flatter him. He knew he looked alright, average height and a few inches shorter than Domor, but muscular enough to aid him in projecting power even before he performed any spells. His skin was the deeper gold it became in the summer months, dusted with freckles. He had no reason to care if Domor approved, or to care if he liked Lem’s curly dark brown hair or the tunic and pants disconcertingly similar to those Domor wore. Lem wasn’t self-conscious at all.

“Of course. You haven’t left,” said Lem.

“Perhaps I do not wish to.”

“Isn’t it the goal of you kind, to cause chaos? You won’t find any chaos with me.”

Domor gave the most infuriating shrug Lem could remember seeing. “I can leave and do that whenever I care to. I’d rather admire your pretty curls. I can’t do that whenever I want.”

“I doubt you could leave.” Lem knew this. He had the situation under control.

“Shouldn’t you have a bit more faith in me?”

“You’re hardly the sort of creature anyone should have faith in.”

“My, your idea of faith is narrow-minded.”

“There is nothing wrong with my faith just because I’m unimpressed with you.”

“You don’t find me appealing? Lying’s improper, you know.”

“You have a rather inflated opinion of yourself if you think your abilities are strong enough for me to give you a second glance.” Lem looked at Domor with nothing but contempt, no matter how allegedly compelling an incubus in his natural form was supposed to be.

“You’re staring at me right now.”

“Because we’re talking. That’s basic manners, which even demons ought to be afforded, no matter how irritating they are.” Lem thought Domor was more irritating than most.

“So why don’t you banish me, then?”

“I was just getting to that.”

Domor radiated amusement like he wasn’t being faced down by a hunter-mage. “Funny, I didn’t think it was the sort of thing you put off.”

“I don’t need your critique.” 

Domor leaned against the tree, carelessly lounging. His ego grew more inflated with every second.

Lem just had to remember his spell and focus on more than Domor’s glittering silver eyes. He closed his own eyes in order to concentrate.

“Distracted?” said Domor.

“No.”

“You are a terrible liar.”

The conversation was pointless; Lem didn’t need to chat with an incubus, not even one with such a honey-sweet voice. Opening his eyes, he shook his head to clear it of the traitorous thought, realizing very well that there was nothing sweet about creatures like Domor, their attractiveness a clever illusion at most.

“Damn it all.” Lem was not so weak as to fall for an incubus’ tricks. A flush of irritation passed through him, and he took small comfort in the fact he did not desire to kiss Domor.

Domor gestured at their surroundings. “Are you including yourself in that?”

The air crackled with energy not Lem’s own. It spurred him to focus his magic, to think the words in the Nameless Tongue and imagine a gateway opening he could send Domor through. All he’d need was a little push, once he successfully formed the gateway.

A gateway in the shape of an oval formed in front of Lem, though it lacked the steady pulse of his usual spellwork. It flickered, more murky gray than the proper black of a standard demon portal. He stared at it, willing it to steady. Nothing under Domor’s watch was steady, certainly not Lem.

“Cute portal. The flickering is very artistic.”

The portal flickered once more and faded out of existence. Lem bit back the desire to scream in frustration. He repeated the spell in his mind, the words a cool breeze against the excess heat surrounding him and Domor. His second portal was a smaller oval, even more faded than his first, like a wisp of murky white fog. It lasted for all of two seconds before fading out of existence.

“Your efforts are admirable, but I’d stop trying to make portals. None of your magic will do anything except look a bit silly.” 

The dismissive edge to Domor’s voice made Lem tense up. Heat rose in his cheeks, and his mind was wiped blank of anything resembling a plan. Merely spending too much time in Domor’s company disintegrated his focus and his composure. His order of demon hunters practiced celibacy, seeing such base physical pleasures like sex as corruption that diluted the ability to perform magic. He thought of his vows because the air in the clearing was too hot, with a scent not unlike that of arousal. Though it had been a while, Lem recognized that scent despite it also being tinged with metallic demonic magic. Whatever tricks Domor was playing, he could ignore them and win this fight. He simply had to focus.

His focus had utterly abandoned him.

“Feeling alright?” said Domor.

Lem automatically took a step backwards, in the direction away from that voice. His attempt to create distance brought him closer to the source of that crackling energy. He bumped against something seemingly solid, energy jarring his body; it had to be some kind of invisible barrier, which Domor should not have been able to create. If Lem had to run for safety, he hoped that barrier wouldn’t hold. He wasn’t ready to run quite yet, though. Shaking from the shock of the impact, he straightened his posture, walked a few steps forward, and forced himself to look at Domor.

That was a mistake.

Domor smirked, and the expression was nearly enough to make Lem’s knees give out. He managed to stand only through summoning the last shreds of his willpower.

“I’m fine.” If Lem said that out loud, perhaps it would become true.

“Are you really? I’m a bit concerned. You look hardly strong enough to stand.”

“I’m fine.” Repetition was key. “I’m fine. Honestly, I’m fine.”

“I’m quite tired of your lying.” In less time than it took to blink, Domor stood in front of Lem, crossing the distance with no effort. 

Lem had no choice but to run, energy barrier or no. The closeness could not be allowed. He wrenched his body away from Domor, pivoting to face the invisible energy barrier. He charged it, hoping mechanical force and sheer need would be enough to breach it.

They weren’t. Lem crashed into the barrier, shock reverberating through every inch of him. He felt like he had power in his veins instead of blood. Lights flared behind his eyes, and he didn’t know if that was the magic or a trick of his mind. His legs gave out, betraying all his lies about being fine, and he collapsed.

Instead of hitting the ground, Lem fell into Domor’s arms. That jarred him enough to attempt struggle, which amounted to nothing. He couldn’t make his body do what he needed, never mind controlling his mind enough to do any magic to free himself. He could only try to shift closer to Domor, horrified by his apparent desire for him. Lem had no wish to break his vow. He was stronger than this, his magic more powerful than Domor’s supernatural seduction.

“Are you going to listen to me now? There is no point in fighting,” said Domor.

“There is always a point in fighting your kind.”

“Not once you’ve lost. And most certainly not when you don’t truly want to fight me. You’ll just tire yourself out if you keep up your silly little attempts to resist your desires. You’re already half-dead, and I’d prefer you retain some energy so I can enjoy you."

If Lem had possessed a sturdier will, he might have cursed Domor’s name even if he couldn’t physically fight him. He might have done something besides sigh and give in. Immediately, heat filled his body; it was of a curiously similar tenor to the effects of the magical barrier, just far more pleasurable. He wriggled in Domor’s arms, unable to adjust to the new sensation. He wasn’t fighting it anymore, but a part of him still wished he could escape it.

The part of Lem that wanted it, physically, was stronger. As loathsome as the sparks of pleasure were, they did feel good, in a way that disrupted thinking. His mental control had been disintegrating anyway, but now it was all but gone. He supposed he should be thankful he could remember his own name and hoped Domor wouldn’t take that, too.

“Oh dear, you’re bleeding. How careless of me to miss that,” said Domor.

Lem could not tell if Domor’s sympathy was at all sincere, though his voice still sent shivers across his skin. Any noise and any movement made him react. Simply breathing was enough to send more need throughout his body. When Domor released him, he sighed in relief, but that relief soured when he figured out he hadn’t been put down on a solid surface. He thought he must be floating, somehow, so he attempted to move his arm to orient himself. He couldn’t move it, only then realizing he’d been bound by glowing ropes of light the same silver color as Domor’s hair and eyes. 

The light-ropes wound around his wrists and ankles, around his waist, down his arms and legs, creating a pattern of odd curves and angles that didn’t seem to quite match up to one another. His cock was left untouched by the arrangement, which had him parallel to the ground, on his back, arms and legs spread out in the shape of an X. Nothing encircled his head, though an invisible force supported it so it didn’t fall backwards. The light-ropes extended out from his body, too, disappearing into the fog that surrounded wherever Domor had taken him. It was like they were the only two beings left alive. To his horror, Lem would rather have Domor with him than be stuck in this realm alone. He could not find release on his own, so he stopped trying to pull at the ropes of light. Each attempt had only made his still-untouched cock ache.

“I’m not going to run,” said Lem.

“Obviously not. But don’t you appreciate my artistry? Red goes quite nicely with the silver light.” Domor stood over him and caressed his cheek. When he pulled back his fingers, they glistened with something red: Lem’s blood.

Already, Lem had forgotten he was bleeding, everything else taking up too much space in his mind. That caress reminded him, bright pain mixing with the mind-fogging effects of the pleasure magic to create a mixture more intense than either on its own. Lem should have hated the pain with enough passion to cancel out his desire, should have hated his rapidly shattering vow of celibacy. He had sworn off sexual contact, much less intimacy with a demon, and yet his body overflowed with want. His vow mattered to him, he swore it did, yet he couldn’t muster up the resistance. All he could do now was fail to blink back the tears that came to his eyes; they spilled down his face, adding to his shame.

Domor put his two bloodied fingers in his mouth and sucked on them, letting out a moan that was obscene despite being nearly inaudible.

“Delightful. I should do that again, this time on purpose. You clearly enjoy it, even if you are crying. Pretty tears for pretty brown eyes?” Domor caressed Lem’s cheek again. “Hmm, I know I should not mar such a lovely face. Healing magic or not, that’s a waste.”

Lem whimpered but did not deny anything, just let more tears fall; the hunger in Domor’s eyes spurred on his own terrible need for contact. That need spiked when Domor leaned down to kiss Lem’s bleeding cheek. It was a violation; he wanted another, and another. There was electric magic in that kiss. He lost blood to the small wound and that which remained headed straight to his hardening cock.

More ropes of light appeared from the surrounding fog; Lem saw them from the corners of his eyes. Perhaps it was an illusion, but these light-ropes looked sharper, with pointed ends, being more like blades than bindings. His heart pounded, and he wondered if he were to be killed. The perception of blades was not wrong; the new light-ropes slashed Lem’s clothing, shredding it, sending fragments flying and leaving Lem naked. They did not, however, kill him, nor did they draw any blood. The sinking feeling in Lem’s stomach, a contrast to his racing heart, was not disappointment, or so he tried to tell himself. He whimpered anyway.

“Don’t worry.” Domor used that same ambiguously-soothing tone he’d used before.

Lem’s feelings were as confusing as that voice. He loved and hated his nakedness before the fully-clothed Domor. However, he had little time to tame the current swirl of emotions because Domor looked at him with his hungriest eyes yet and murmured something that made the air, and the magical bondage apparatus, tremble.

A line appeared on Lem’s chest, though he had to crane his neck to see it. It glowed a moment before turning the red of his blood. Pain followed the magic cut, though it could hardly be said to hurt as proper wounds did, the sensation again serving to intensify his pleasure. Another cut appeared after the first one, with yet another coming after. Each cut layered pain on top of pleasure on top of pain. Lem noticed they were forming some kind of symbol, the lines not merely random. He didn’t try to decipher it, needing to close his eyes because everything was too much; he was buried under all the layers of sensation.

The pain stopped, and Lem assumed Domor was done with his spell, though the air carried the heady scent of arousal, metallic demonic magic, and Lem’s blood. At this point, they were all one and the same. They were all the same, and still not enough. As buried as he was under so many feelings, he needed more, crying out for it with a flicker of shame in the back of his mind.

The magic light-ropes spread Lem’s legs wider so he was more exposed, letting them bend down like they were hanging off an invisible edge. Something else answered his cry for more: a soft, wet touch on his bleeding chest. Domor was standing between his spread legs, licking his chest, lapping up the blood from the wounds he’d created, sparking that pain-pleasure combination while making pleased little moans of his own. Lem trembled in his bonds, letting out another cry just as needy as the one before. Domor’s blood-drinking satisfied only a part of him; the more blood he consumed, the more the remaining blood went to Lem’s cock. It seemed that every time he bled, his cock grew harder and his balls fuller. His arousal would have to spill over soon. He hoped Domor would let him come.

Domor stopped licking at Lem’s cuts, leaving him bereft, making him look up with pleading eyes. He didn’t even try to form words; those were beyond him. His wordless plea earned him a smile from Domor.

“I know what I’m going to give you now. Today, I feel like fucking someone, specifically you.” Domor unlaced his pants and released his cock, at the same time materializing a bottle of oil from nowhere. 

From a brief glance, Lem saw that Domor was huge, longer and thicker than he was. He closed his eyes and stopped straining to see; it was easier that way. He could still hear the slick sounds of Domor lubing up his enormous cock. Those sounds then stopped, and Lem felt something press against his entrance. He opened his eyes for half a moment, and he was right; Domor was about to fuck him.

Domor didn’t wait for his permission, either. He simply grabbed the flesh above Lem’s hips and thrust into him, ignoring concerns about fitting inside. He was right to be so unconcerned; the magic in the air meant that Lem stretched more easily than he should have, the pain of insertion lighter and less consequential than it would have been in an ordinary encounter, if Lem had partaken in those anytime recently. He’d taken a vow years ago, never mind how Domor’s cock shattered it further and further.

Pressure, from Domor’s cock and the bruising grip of his hands on Lem’s body, built itself into more and more pleasure, sparks of desire jumping all over Lem’s skin, speeding through the blood still in his veins, reaching into every inch of his being. No part of him was safe; all of him belonged to Domor, the source of the impossible feelings. He shook all over, magic soaking into his soul and then demanding release.

The magic got its wish. Lem let out a high-pitched cry he could not hold it back, and something smiled upon him because the barrier between need and desire broke down at the same time Domor spent inside him. Pleasure burst through Lem as he came, wave after wave after wave of it, an endless release that defied reason. This could not be him; he could not be feeling this, could not be experiencing such physical joy. It was enough to send him to unconsciousness. 

He let the darkness claim him so he would not have to think about what he’d done.

* * *

When Lem awoke, he was naked on a bed inside a strange room steeped in wrongness. He didn’t know where he was, only that he shouldn’t have been there. The walls held an odd silvery sheen, and the light fixtures were a spiral design that hurt to look at. The lights themselves were a familiar color, though Lem didn’t recall where he’d seen that shade of silver before. He hoped it was a dream; things usually were off in dreams.

“I thought you’d never wake.”

That voice sent a shock of ice-cold familiarity through Lem’s veins. It had to belong to Domor, who was far too real. Out of the corner of his eye, Lem saw him in the bed they shared. Unlike Lem, he was wearing clothes, claiming protection denied to Lem.

“Can’t you just let me go home?” Unable to look at Domor, Lem turned his back to him, half-hoping he was somehow still dreaming so that asking Domor to let him go would do any good. He then regretted the vulnerability of exposing his back but didn’t turn around again. No position was safe, though Lem was, barely, grateful that incubus magic wasn’t currently making him want to fuck Domor. That was about the only aspect of the situation Lem held any gratitude for. There were no traces of physical pain, which might have pleased some, but Lem hated that Domor had used demonic healing to erase the physical evidence of what he’d done.

Domor also had the gall to run his hand through Lem’s curls in a parody of comfort. “I’ll let you go soon enough, though you shouldn’t look so ungrateful. You had a good time, didn’t you? There’s no need to be sad about it.”

Lem shuddered at the touch. “Your definition of ‘good time’ is not my own.”

“I suppose not. You do have some rather silly ideas, though. I don’t understand why your people think celibacy does you any good when it just leaves you frustrated and vulnerable. The whole hunter-mage philosophy is unsound; refusing all sex doesn’t mean you stop wanting it.”

Domor encircled Lem’s waist with his arm, cuddling up to him in yet another mockery of comfort and affection.

“I’m not going to take philosophy lessons from an incubus. I did not want the sex you forced on me. Demonic trickery made me agree. Your deranged musings don’t mean it wasn’t rape.”

“Even if you take that to be true, the hunter-mage belief system is as counterproductive as ever. Sex doesn’t make you lose power. Quite the opposite, you’ll see.”

Lem didn’t know if his fellow hunter-mages would take him back if they found out, not that he planned to tell anyone. It wasn’t the sort of secret a person with common sense revealed. He remained still in Domor’s embrace, all the while trying to focus enough to convince Domor to let him leave. He lacked even the energy to panic properly, though he could feel the beginnings of horror and fury bubbling just beneath the surface of his consciousness.

“How long do you plan to keep me here?” said Lem.

“So foolish, so impatient. You need your rest, and I can’t say I’m entirely done with you. I’ll let you go in another day or two if you promise not to keep asking. That’s fair, isn’t it?” said Domor.

“Fair enough.”

It wasn’t fair, of course. Lem shuddered again at the thought of spending another day or more with Domor. Luckily, Domor didn’t remark on Lem’s reaction.

Since Lem had no choice, he would survive the awful deal he’d been given; the destructive feelings could wait until he was free to overtake him. Already, Lem had a nascent plan, unlikely to succeed though it was.

After escaping Domor's hospitality, Lem would find him when he was ready and destroy him utterly so he couldn’t hurt anyone like that ever again.


End file.
